


Ruin

by Bloomquist



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Cunnilingus, Cuntboy, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Sahir&Diabo, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 08:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloomquist/pseuds/Bloomquist
Summary: An early morning surprise.





	Ruin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinnabar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnabar/gifts).

Drowsily, Diabo awoke from a heavy sleep to the feeling of pressure against his shoulders. Polychromatic eyes opened to the sight of a lithe form above him, staring down at him with a mischievous smile. It took a moment for him to register the angle, finally understood with the feeling of thighs against the sides of his head.

“Diabo,” was all the warning his lover gave, before he ground his cunt down into his face, slathering his nose and mouth with a mess of ichor. He grunted with the initial disapproval and lifted his hands to hips to pry him off, but to no avail. Sahir ground down again, tentacle writhing across the bridge of his nose and curling around his forehead.

Resigned, the next noise instead came out as a moan. Diabo angled his chin and darted his tongue out into a willing body, receiving a similar noise that told him this had been the goal. He glided his tongue experimentally across sensitive flesh, drinking down the liquids that slid their way into his mouth like syrup.

With each swallow it was easier to lose himself in it. His tongue lathed against every surface it came into contact with and by the heady sounds and clamping thighs around him, it was more than enough. Diabo closed his eyes as the tentacle curled its way down his face and adoringly around his cheek, stroking there gently to encourage more.

More. Sahir was shaking now, moans garbling into each other into a mess of noises. Diabo only dug into him further, bringing teeth and lips against his folds and crevices, until finally turning his head and clamping sharply down on the base of the tentacle.

The result was astounding. Sahir let out a scream and his hand flicked down, taking a full handful of his hair and nearly tearing it out. Liquid flooded into Diabo’s mouth and down his chin and cheeks as his lover came, nearly suffocating him in the process. It seemed like almost a full minute before the thighs and hand left him wanting as Sahir flopped sideways onto the bed into a panting mess.

Diabo simply sat up and wiped a hand across his chin, observing the curled up and sated figure. His clean hand slipped through sweaty blond hair briefly before he stood, retreating to the bathroom for a much needed morning shower.

The water was hot enough to suffocate. Diabo exhaled as he entered the stream, immediately running his hands through his hair and over his soaked face. The water ran gray against the white of the tiles beneath him. He poured a generous amount of shampoo into his palm and scrubbed through the sticky mess, grunting in disapproval as the last of the come finally unstuck. It was rinsed with just as much spite, taking with it the strands of hair that had been plucked by Sahir’s overzealous grip.

The moment Diabo reached for the conditioner, however, a gust of air told him the unlatched door of the bathroom had been opened. He paused with baited breath, intently listening to the near silent footsteps.

No shoes. Lighter than air. He reached for the conditioner again, unfazed by the presence until the door of the shower itself opened behind him.

The next thing he knew, his back met the wall of the shower. His hands flung out to grip the body up against him. Four extra hands flung them right back, pinning them up and away. The struggle would have continued, had it not been for the wet heat that suddenly engulfed his painfully sensitive erection. Two more hands bruised his hips when he bucked, and Diabo finally settled on throwing his head back and moaning, unable to do anything else.

Sahir, however, didn’t hold back. A long tongue, inhumanly long, wrapped its way around him. Lips so tight they made Diabo’s head spin. His head smacked painfully against the wall of the shower, the only movement he was allowed as he was accosted. He didn’t care. The pleasure was immeasurable in a way only Sahir could give him, and he lost himself in it.

Again and again Sahir thrust his mouth against Diabo, taking in his whole length and withdrawing completely before beginning again, a torturously fast pace. He was building, his voice echoing in the small space. It only seemed to fuel Sahir more to hear him crumble.

Then, finally, as it all became too much, Sahir finally took his revenge.

He bit back.

The screams of ecstasy turned to screams of pain and Diabo instinctively slammed a knee into the middle of Sahir’s chest, dislodging him and throwing him across to the opposite wall. Diabo lunged, and in a mix of hot water and bodies they clambered for dominance, slipping and sliding against the floor.

They grappled and spun, first Sahir and then Diabo meeting the floor. Again Sahir. His extra arms had dissipated for the time being, no doubt from the sheer heat of the moment. At some point the door of the shower shattered in a mess of glass outside of their makeshift wrestling ring.

Diabo ripped out an eye, but Sahir nearly eviscerated him. Blood and ichor mingled with the water as Diabo sent an uppercut into Sahir’s chin. His tongue was bit. One of the tips floated off into the drain, but Sahir gripped Diabo by the skull, smashing it into the wall with a triumphant “Hah!”

He slid down, unmoving. His eyes tried to blink away the daze, but to his own horror and the limits of his all too human body, he passed out.

Pain. Pleasure. Diabo awoke to the feeling of his hair being gently twirled, and gave a short grunt of disapproval. He tried to raise his arm, but the pain of strained muscles and the still-bleeding gash across his stomach made it impossible. His hand flopped uselessly down against the bed.

Bed? Where had he been? The shower. Another, longer disapproving groan. His head hurt. His dick hurt. His organs were no doubt threatening to spill out of him, and yet above him hovered a perfectly pristine Sahir, staring down at him with mocking love.

“Diabo,” he tittered, lifting his lover’s chin.

“Sahir,” he rasped back, closing his eyes to the sound.

“I win.”


End file.
